[Detective Carter's POV]
I stood outside my partner Alan Sloane's apartment, rapping my knuckles against the door.
No answer.
Frowning, I pulled out my phone and dialed his number.
Straight to voicemail.
A sense of unease settled in my gut. I knocked again, harder this time. "Sloane! You in there?"
Silence.
My jaw tightened. Something wasn't right.
Stepping back, I made my way around the building, checking the windows. When I reached his bedroom window, my stomach dropped. The place was a mess—furniture knocked over, the room completely trashed. It looked like a struggle had taken place.
I immediately grabbed my phone and called it in. "Dispatch, this is Detective Carter, Badge Number xxxxxx. My partner, Detective Alan Sloane, hasn't been heard from today. His apartment shows signs of struggle."
The response came fast. "Copy that. Sending units now."
Exhaling sharply, I tightened my grip around my phone.
Taking a breath, I drew my gun and moved to the front door.
[Third-Person POV]
Inside the precinct, tension hung thick in the air. Officers whispered in hushed voices, some casting uneasy glances at Alan Sloane's empty desk.
In his office, Captain Reynolds sat behind his desk, listening intently as Carter laid out the situation.
"Two days?" Reynolds muttered, rubbing his jaw. "Didn't he take some time off? Said he had something to take care of."
"Yeah," Carter replied. "But he texted me last night saying he was back and would be in this morning. When he didn't show, I called but no answer. Then I checked his apartment. The place looks like a damn hurricane hit it, especially the bedroom. That's where the struggle seemed to have happened."
Reynolds leaned forward, his expression hardening. "No calls? No texts?"
"Nothing," Carter confirmed. "We found his cellphone and service weapon inside his house. His car's still parked outside. No signs of forced entry, but the place was trashed."
A heavy silence settled between them.
Reynolds exhaled, his gaze dark with concern. "Alright… we treat this as a missing persons case. Start digging. Find out what the hell happened to Sloane. Start with your recent cases."
Carter gave a sharp nod, turned on his heel, and walked out of the office.
--
--
The bass-heavy music pulsed through the dimly lit nightclub, reverberating in David's chest as he took another sip of his whiskey. He leaned against the bar, half-listening to the murmur of voices around him, watching the ice swirl in his glass. It had been a long couple of months, and tonight was supposed to be about unwinding.
A group approached the bar, a mix of guys and girls, all in their mid-twenties, laughing, chatting, and taking pictures.
David barely paid them any mind, until he saw her.
She stood slightly apart from the rest, engaged in conversation with a friend. She had a striking presence, hazel eyes that reflected the club's neon glow, dark brown hair cascading in loose waves over her shoulders, and an easy confidence in the way she carried herself. Her toned figure was accentuated by a form-fitting black dress, simple yet effortlessly stunning. She wasn't trying to stand out, but to David, she did.
Her friend whispered something, and she laughed—a soft, genuine sound that cut through the club's noise. He found himself watching her, the way she sipped her drink, how she shifted on her heels as she listened, the way her lips curved into a small, amused smirk at something her friend said.
The rest of the group was louder, more animated. The guys playfully nudged each other, showing off their drinks for a selfie, while the girls posed, their laughter mixing with the music.
For the first time that night, David felt something beyond the numbing haze of alcohol and flashing lights.
David exhaled, turning back to his drink as the group returned to the dance floor. The girl who had caught his attention lingered a moment, exchanging a few words with her friend before following them.
He signaled for another drink, letting the ice clink in his glass as he took a slow sip. The club's neon lights pulsed to the beat of the music, casting shifting colors across the crowd. He leaned against the bar, momentarily tuning out everything around him.
Then he heard it, raised voices and music.
He turned around and saw what was happening, since it might lead to some entertaining show
A small confrontation was unfolding, but he couldn't make out the details from where he stood. A group of older men, mid-30s, rough-looking, were too close to a group of women. Too close in a way that was obvious, even from a distance. A couple of guys in their late 20s were with them, laughing, egging them on.
One of the girls turned away sharply, trying to move past, but one of the older guys grabbed her wrist, pulling her back with an easy, overconfident grin. She twisted her arm, clearly trying to shake him off.
That was enough to make the guys from her group step in. One of them, a lean guy in a button-down, pushed forward, shoving the drunk's hand away.
"Back off man," he snapped.
The drunk let out a slow, mocking chuckle. "Relax, kid. We're just having a good time."
The heavier-set guy beside him sneered. "Yeah. Maybe they should learn to take a compliment."
Another girl, her friend, stepped between them, glaring. "We're not interested. Leave us alone."
That only made them laugh harder.
David exhaled through his nose. He'd seen it before.
Drunks who thought they owned the space around them. Guys who mistook discomfort for playing hard to get. And if it kept going, it was only a matter of time before someone threw a punch.
He debated about stepping in. The bouncer was already moving toward them, but if things escalated before he got there…
Suddenly, the drunk in the button-down shirt shoved one of the girls' friends back, hard. The guy stumbled, crashing into a barstool. Before he could catch himself, one of the rougher-looking men threw a punch. It connected with a sickening crack, sending him sprawling to the ground. Blood dripped from his nose.
Screams erupted. People started backing away, some rushing toward the exit, others grabbing their phones to record.
David turned just as the group of men moved toward the girls. And then he saw her—the woman who had caught his attention earlier. The one he'd been eyeing just minutes ago. She was frozen in place, her friend's arm clutched tightly in hers.
Something clicked inside him.
Setting his drink down with deliberate ease, David stepped forward, placing himself directly between the drunk men and the girls.
"Alright," he said, his voice calm but edged with warning. "That's enough."
The heavier-set guy snorted. "And who the hell are you?"
"Someone telling you to walk away before this gets ugly."
One of the younger ones scoffed. "What, you think you're a hero?"
David met their eyes one by one. "No. Just someone who doesn't like assholes who pick on women."
The first drunk sneered. "Look, pal, we were just having some fun. Maybe mind your own damn—"
David didn't let him finish. He saw the guy's posture shift, his body language telegraphing what was about to happen. The moment the drunk lifted his hand, whether to shove him or throw a punch, it didn't matter.
David struck first.
A clean, sharp jab to the nose. The guy reeled back with a howl, clutching his face as blood poured between his fingers.
Then chaos erupted.
The heavier-set man lunged, swinging wildly. David ducked under the sloppy punch, driving his elbow into the guy's ribs. A pained grunt escaped him as he doubled over.
Another one came from the side, this one faster, more controlled. David blocked the incoming fist with his forearm and countered with a knee to the stomach. The guy staggered back, winded.
Tables overturned. Glass shattered. Screams filled the air as people scrambled out of the way.
Two more rushed him at once. David sidestepped the first, catching him by the collar and yanking him forward, sending him crashing into his friend. Both of them went down in a heap.
The girl and her friends were already backing away, trying to get clear of the fight.
One of the younger guys charged at David from behind. He sensed it, spinning just in time to grab the guy by the wrist and twist. A howl of pain followed as David drove a fist into his jaw, sending him collapsing onto the floor.
Before another could try their luck, bouncers swarmed in.
"Alright, that's enough!" one of them roared.
Two massive men grabbed David from behind, yanking him back before he could throw another punch. Others tackled the remaining drunks, slamming them onto the floor and pinning them down.
David didn't resist. He took a breath, calming his pulse as the adrenaline slowly settled.
The girl, the one who had caught his attention, was staring at him, eyes wide.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice steady despite the chaos around them.
She nodded, still trying to process what had just happened.
Behind them, one of the bouncers grumbled, "You're lucky we saw what happened, man. Otherwise, you'd be getting tossed out with them."
David exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Yeah. Lucky me."
The tension in the club still hung thick in the air as the bouncers hauled the drunken troublemakers toward the exit. David exhaled, rolling his shoulders as the adrenaline slowly faded. The girl was still staring at him, her expression caught somewhere between shock and gratitude.
One of her friends, a tall guy with the broken nose, let out a pained groan as he tried to stand. The bouncer next to David clicked his tongue and reached down to help him up.
"Come on, let's get you all outside," the bouncer grumbled, waving the group toward the exit.
David took a quick look at the others. There were three guys and four girls, including the one who had caught his attention. They looked like they were around his age. One of the guys had a busted lip, and another was still dazed from getting shoved earlier. The girls were rattled but unharmed.
David stepped toward them, offering a hand to help steady one of the girls in heels. "Let's go before those idiots come back and start trouble again."
They moved toward the entrance, pushing past the other clubgoers.
"Jesus," one of the guys muttered, holding his nose. "What the hell was that?"
"Drunk assholes thinking they own the place," the bouncer scoffed. "You're lucky this guy stepped in." He gave David a nod.
The girl David had was looking at finally turned to him. "That was… something."
David smirked. "Yeah, well, I was just enjoying my drink until you guys caused a scene."
She let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "Right, like that was our fault?"
One of the other girls, petite with wavy brown hair, narrowed her eyes at him. "Why did you even help us?"
David turned his gaze to her, then back to the girl who had caught his attention. He shrugged and said smoothly, "Because your friend is beautiful, and I figured I'd be the knight in shining armor for the night."
The girls let out amused scoffs, and the guys rolled their eyes.
"Wow," the girl with wavy hair said, shaking her head. "Smooth."
The one he had been watching earlier smiled at him, a mix of surprise and amusement in her expression. "Well, then, Sir Knight, thanks for stepping in."
David gave her a casual nod. "No problem."
One of the guys winced as he touched his busted lip. "Alright, we need to get out of here before more trouble shows up."
David stepped toward the curb and waved down a taxi. When it pulled up, he gestured for them to get in.
The group started piling into the taxi, but the girl he'd been talking to hesitated for a second before turning back to him.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"David," he answered. "You?"
She smiled. "Elena."
"Nice to meet you, Elena." He pulled out his phone and handed it to her. "Put your number in. Call me when you guys get home safe."
She arched an eyebrow. "So bossy."
David smirked. "I did save you. Seems fair."
She chuckled but took his phone, tapping in her number before handing it back. "Alright, Sir Knight. I'll let you know."
"Good."
With one last look, she slid into the taxi, and the driver pulled away.
David stood there for a moment, watching the taillights disappear down the street. Then he exhaled, running a hand through his hair before turning back toward the club.
What a night.
---
---
David slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and started walking. A block away, he turned into a dark alley, wide enough for cleaning trucks to pass through. With a silent command, his modified Dodge Challenger materialized before him—a sleek, black muscle car gleaming under the dim streetlights. He slid into the driver's seat and pulled away, the powerful engine purring as he navigated through the quiet streets.
Before long, he arrived at the abandoned warehouse he had been using as a training ground. Parking inside, he made his way to the underground bunker concealed beneath the structure. As he descended, he secured the entrance behind him, ensuring no one could follow.
Reaching into his inventory, he retrieved a white full-face mask and slipped it on. The smooth, featureless surface concealed his identity completely.
Shrugging off his jacket, he draped it over the backrest of a chair before settling into the seat. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes remained sharp as he stared forward into the dimly lit space.
A moment of silence passed before his voice cut through the air, cold and steady.
"Now then, Detective… are you finally ready to give me the details I've been asking for?"
To Be Continued...